


But what will you be and when?

by Dividedpoet



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Professors, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Comfort, Drabble, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Fury is Natasha's adoptive father, Glasses, Injury Recovery, M/M, Peggy is Bucky's adopted sister, Porn With Plot, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Rimming, Romance, Smut, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-10-22 11:15:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10695873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dividedpoet/pseuds/Dividedpoet
Summary: Dropping down onto the bed, Steve sighs. It’s long suffered and entirely whimsical. “I suppose that means you haven't suddenly graduated?” he asks.Bucky shakes his head slowly. “‘Fraid not, professor,” he says with a wink, grabbing at Steve’s arm to tug him closer. “Still a year left to go.” Steve knows that. They’ve had this conversation countless times over the last two years. At various volumes.The argument is always the same. Steve says splitting up is not an option. Not for him. He says Bucky can do whatever he thinks is best. Hell, he can turn Steve in if that’s what he wants. Steve won't blame him. But on Steve’s end, he’ll take the risk.Add one part Sexy Professor Steve Rogers and one part Eager Student Bucky Barnes. Mix well.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> AN: This is just a little drabble I wrote this evening. I'm definitely feeling the Steve/Bucky professor-teacher dynamic and may post drabbles from this 'verse occasionally Just for funnsies. :-D This is un-beta'd so please blame me for all mistakes.
> 
> Title from "The Great Estates" by Freelance Whales.

1.

It hasn't been dark for very long, thirty minutes at most. That’s when the bedside lamp clicked off and the flicker of the television screen ended with a complete lack of flourish. It's expected now. Bucky’s heart pounds with it. Anticipation for the first touch after the long day of respective school involvement. Because as much fun as it is dating an academic, finals tend to soften a lover’s woody. 

The problem is, the touch never comes. Bucky waits, building it up in his head. Knees pressed together with yearning for the man whose heat comes off of him in waves. Just a brush of fingers or a grind of hips into his ass cheeks. But it never comes. The longer he waits the harder he gets without ever being touched. The mere memories of previous semesters flood his mind and he doesn't even notice when the bed shifts behind him.

“You know,” Steve begins, damn near a pur if Steve Roger’s fucking purred. Which he doesn't. Fuck. “You’re kind of just canting your hips back and forth into thin air.” As he says the words his hand takes Bucky’s right, palm presses against palm. Holding Bucky’s hand still at his hip. “At first I thought you’d given up waiting, that you were taking care of yourself,” Steve slides in close to Bucky now, body pressing along the back of his. “But then I realized you hadn't touched yourself. You were just so turned on -” Steve’s tone has shifted to something of a growl and Bucky grinds back into him. He can feel Steve’s cock sliding back and forth against his crack through the few layers of their clothing. Blunt and sure.

“Uun,” Bucky forces out eloquently. Steve chuckles. He still hasn't touched him. Bastard.

With another grind Steve grunts low in his ear, “Tell me what you were thinking about?”

In that instant Bucky realizes that Steve was already hard as a rock by the time he pressed against Bucky. Oh. _Oh._

Bucky cants his hips back into Steve’s one last time before using every ounce of strength he has to pull away. “Gonna show you,” he mumbles, spinning to face Steve and grabbing the other man’s right hip to encourage him to lay on his stomach. Steve complies, letting out an involuntary whine as his still covered cock connects with the mattress. He rocks his hips forward once before forcing himself to still.

“Buck,” Steve pleads. _Pleads_. Ah fuck. Bucky’s between Steve’s thighs a moment later, fingers pulling down the waistband only enough to expose his ass before sinking into round ass cheeks as he spreads them apart. Steve grinds into the mattress fully when Bucky licks at his hole just after that. “My God,” Steve exclaims. Bucky wishes he could stick a hand into his own boxers when Steve pushes back onto his tongue. “More.”

Of course Bucky doesn't have to be asked twice, giving Steve more of his tongue as he inches his fingers closers and closer. Steve feels the movement and groans. “Fuck this,” Bucky says against Steve’s ass crack, the vibration and immediate retreat of Bucky causing Steve to keen.

Bucky is back in moments, fingers slick as he snaps the cap back on a tube. Steve’s preparation isn't careful. It’s quick and dirty, exactly how he likes it. After sliding on the condom, while pushing into him, Bucky idly wonders how long it took Steve to develope that preference. Years? Or has he always been like that?

Steve angles his hips backward. “Buck,” because Bucky didn't start moving as soon as he was inside Steve and that’s what he likes. 

The rhythm picks up quickly, Steve driving back into Bucky like he wants to feel him for days afterward. When Steve says as much Bucky growls and bites Steve at the junction of his neck and shoulder. Steve moans long and deep, reaching back to dig his fingernails into Bucky’s hip.

“Oh fuck Steve,” Bucky shutters suddenly, that last bit of stimulation too much. He reaches around and slips a hand into the boxers still clung around Steve’s hips. His fingers close around Steve’s cock and with a grunt he pulls Steve over the edge with him.

Panting heavily the two lay there for a few moments, listening to the silence of the room. Finally Bucky grabs the top of the condom and pulls out of Steve, rolling onto his back and grabbing some tissue off the nightstand to put the condom in before he tosses it in the trash.

Steve’s out of bed just after that, heading for the bathroom in the dark. You’d think sleeping with lube up your ass would be incredibly comfortable. Bucky chuckles to himself at his own joke.

“What do you have in the morning?” Steve calls from the bathroom after the light flips on.

Pausing to shield himself from the light Bucky says, “Russian?”

Steve’s taken out his contacts and has his glasses on when he emerges from the bathroom. Bucky only sees it for a moment before Steve turns the bathroom light back off. “You finished your project?” he asks.

Bucky shrugs. “Mostly. Just need to smooth out the body. We have the written portion of the final tomorrow and then I’m getting together with Nat afterward to finish the presentation.” His eyes are already adjusting to the darkness and fixed on Steve’s face. More specifically the thick black frames he only wears to bed at night or when he gets up in the morning because he is blind as a bat.

Dropping down onto the bed, Steve sighs. It’s long suffered and entirely whimsical. “I suppose that means you haven't suddenly graduated?” he asks.

Bucky shakes his head slowly. “‘Fraid not, professor,” he says with a wink, grabbing at Steve’s arm to tug him closer. “Still a year left to go.” Steve knows that. They’ve had this conversation countless times over the last two years. At various volumes. 

The argument is always the same. Steve says splitting up is not an option. Not for him. He says Bucky can do whatever he thinks is best. Hell, he can turn Steve in if that’s what he wants. Steve won't blame him. But on Steve’s end, he’ll take the risk. 

“What do you have tomorrow?” Bucky asks in return, settling against the older man’s side.

Steve doesn't hesitate. “Political Ramifications in Post-War Ireland,” he says. 

“That doesn't sound too boring,” Bucky comments, because even saying the name of the course Steve looks like he’s about to gouge out his eyes from their sockets. 

“It’s not,” Steve says. “It’s two of the students. They drive me up the wall. And there are six of them, only so much I can avoid. Writing the test was bad enough, but I’m going to spend two hours answering ridiculously inane questions.” As frustrated as Steve sounds, they both know he’ll sit there and answer every inane question with a genuine smile on his face.

Bucky nods slowly, attempting to wrap his head around this predicament. After a moment's thought his lips stretch into a grin. “I'll make you a deal,” he says.

Immediately Steve looks intrigued. 

“If you make it to the end of the week without setting any of your students on fire and I make it through taking my own finals unscathed, we’ll celebrate by getting really naked,” Bucky proposes quickly.

Steve barks out a laugh before offering his hand. “Deal.” The deal sealed with a shake, Steve takes his glasses off and sets them on the nightstand. He settles behind Bucky, arm draped over the younger man’s midsection. 

Bucky’s skin is humming in anticipation of their week, the time they’ll spend on opposite sides of campus. But Steve’s warm weight brings him down quickly. Right, Bucky gets to climb in bed with this every night. It’s that thought, always that thought, that lulls Bucky to sleep.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Because Steve is standing at the foot of the bed, stark naked. With his dark rimmed glasses on, he clearly expects Bucky’s eyes to rake over him the way they are. Yearning blooms in Bucky’s gut, a yearning to have opened his eyes when Steve was still far enough away that he might take him all in. Now the foot of the bed-frame disrupts the view, stopping just where the crease of Steve’s groin begins._
> 
> _“This isn’t fair, it’s too early to be this hard,” Bucky says, wanting desperately to bury his face in the pillows but unable to tear his eyes away from Steve’s beautiful body._
> 
> _The smile that spreads across Steve’s face is slow and easy. “You’re twenty-two. You’ll survive,” he says, the syllables even lazy as they glide across Steve’s tongue._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Okay, more! If I really write a little drabble every time I want to procrastinate, this document may get very long very fast.
> 
> Chronologically this falls right after the last one. :-)

2.

It isn’t that Bucky’s surprised Steve decided to wake him up this way. It’s just that...he’s surprised. A quick glance out the window lets Bucky know it can’t be much past five in the morning. But apparently it’s never too early. 

Bucky groans and Steve huffs out a chuckle. “Morning,” he grunts, already panting. Man, Bucky knew Steve had inched over thirty but this was ridiculous.

“Aren’t old men supposed to take it easy in the morning?” Bucky comments. He’s pretty sure if he cracks open an eye he’ll see Steve flipping him off. Hell, he can practically feel it.

The bed gives an enthusiastic shutter. “Aw, don’t be like that. You told me you need motivation in the morning. I’m here to provide.”

Smacking the mattress, Bucky growls, “Not before sunrise. And not in the form of you going through warm-up drills at the foot of the fucking bed!”

Steve finally stops his motion to really laugh, a deep chuckle that pulls up from the bottom of his stomach. A scraping from the table by the window signals to Bucky that Steve hasn’t put his contacts in yet. As tired as Bucky is, his dick doesn’t want to let go of what that could mean. Ever so slowly he opens his eyes, one at a time back and forth as he attempts to adjust to the burgeoning dawn light. Suddenly Bucky is feeling very awake.

Because Steve is standing at the foot of the bed, stark naked. With his dark rimmed glasses on, he clearly expects Bucky’s eyes to rake over him the way they are. Yearning blooms in Bucky’s gut, a yearning to have opened his eyes when Steve was still far enough away that he might take him all in. Now the foot of the bed-frame disrupts the view, stopping just where the crease of Steve’s groin begins. 

“This isn’t fair, it’s too early to be this hard,” Bucky says, wanting desperately to bury his face in the pillows but unable to tear his eyes away from Steve’s beautiful body. 

The smile that spreads across Steve’s face is slow and easy. “You’re twenty-two. You’ll survive,” he says, the syllables even lazy as they glide across Steve’s tongue. 

Bucky shakes his head. “Nope, Painfully Erect, P.E. if you will, is a terrible condition. We must find a cure immediately,” he says. Even as Steve rolls his eyes at yet another reminder of their age difference in the form of a _terrible_ joke, he leans away from the bed frame in order to let Bucky know he feels his pain. 

Unconsciously licking his lips, that easy smile spreads across Steve’s face again. “You’ve been that hard at least twice this morning,” he says. Then, in a rather scandalous fashion, Steve leans forward to press his erection against the plane of the footboard. “I had to start working out, if I didn’t I was going to climb up and impale myself on you.” Mouth watering, Bucky’s sitting up before he can put any real thought in it. It times like these he wishes he could be as smooth as Steve. 

With PhDs in both European Literature and Art History under his belt, Steve can rattle off scenarios that could make Bucky’s toes curl. And have. At some very inopportune times. Like his Human Sexuality midterm when the teacher quietly said therapy may benefit him if he’s having such reactions to the literature. Steve had to tell him later that she was implying he was repressing his sexually. Bucky dropped to his knees right there. He couldn’t tell if Steve enjoyed himself _because_ of the possibility of a student walking into his office or in spite of it.

Now, Bucky doesn’t have the possibility of a scandal to entice the voyeur in Steve. He must rely entirely on the older man’s desire for him. Which he’s been told is plenty. “You should have climbed on, that would have been much better banging to wake up to,” except the words are stuttered as Steve drags a finger up Bucky’s ankle.

“And miss that look on your face?”

Bucky knows exactly what look Steve means. The look on Bucky’s face as Steve takes him into his body is something that’s been waxed poetic about on multiple occasions, some less sober than others. A whimper echos around the room and it takes Bucky a solid ten seconds to realize it came out of his mouth. 

Every muscle in Bucky’s body strains toward to man slowly moving up the side of the bed toward him. “Well you’re more than prepared now so -” Bucky trails off as Steve licks into his mouth like they’re sharing oxygen. Already climbing into Bucky’s lap without preamble, Bucky reaches a hand behind Steve as soon as he’s close enough to angle his arm that way. His fingers comes into contact with _slick_ and _warm_. “How long were you awake?” Bucky groans against his lips.

The chuckle that tumbles from Steve is downright filthy. “If my memory hasn’t faltered too much, I do believe we made a deal.” He punctuates the statement by reaching one hand down to push at Bucky’s boxer briefs. 

Thrusting his hips up toward the whisper of Steve’s warmth, Bucky nods. “Something about surviving and naked,” he says distractedly. 

Steve’s other hand joins the first and they work together to pull Bucky’s underwear down and off, sliding with them as they go. With Steve watching him over the rim of his glasses, Bucky thinks the site may cause him to come right there. “You’re leaking,” Steve says, simply a fact stated. 

“If you keep teasing me I’m gonna be doing more than leak and it’s gonna be very embarrassing,” Bucky grits out. 

Rolling his eyes, Steve climbs back up Bucky’s body on his knees, tearing a condom as he goes. “Pretty sure, as the older lover, I’m supposed to be teaching you all kind of worldly things such as -” Steve pauses to slide the condom down before following immediately, sinking onto Bucky’s cock without hesitation, “How to keep from coming without keeping count and -” a moan slips into his words when he brings himself up and then back down, “How to garner enjoyment out of blue balls.”

A hiss escapes from Bucky’s mouth as he reaches forward to dig his nails into Steve’s hips, pulling him down forcefully when he raises back up. “I think we can hold off on that last lesson for a bit longer,” Bucky says. Steve answers by grinding his ass down into Bucky’s lap while reaching a hand back to play with his balls. “Uun,” Bucky whimpers in punctuation. 

In an attempt to thrust up farther into Steve, Bucky scrambles his heels against the bed sheets. Getting no results, Bucky gives a frustrated growl and places his left hand on Steve’s lower back before bracing his right against the mattress. Without warning he scoots the two of them backwards, Steve in mid-thrust. 

The combination of Bucky’s body hitting the headboard and Steve sliding back down puts additional weight behind the motion. Steve grunts. “Who taught you that?” he grits out and Bucky knows he slammed directly against the older man’s prostate. 

“Some old professor I know.” Bucky’s grin is sneaky, but those words are all he even tries to say. Because Steve, the most incredibly sexy man Bucky has ever laid eyes on, is still bouncing up and down on his dick. As many moves as Steve has imparted over the years, he has yet to make Bucky that smooth.

With his back braced against the headboard and pillows, Bucky is able to put more force behind his meeting thrusts. To add to the pressure, Bucky doesn’t remove his hand from Steve’s lower back. 

Every time Steve leans up, Bucky pushes him back down. “Other hand,” Steve wheezes, ‘d’ cutting off at the end. Bucky knows exactly what he means and wraps the fingers of his right hand, his free hand, around Steve’s cock. He comes over Bucky’s fingers with only three tugs, excess dripping down onto his stomach. 

Bucky doesn’t slow his thrusts underneath Steve, continues to stroke the stubborn hard-on that hasn’t softened yet. Steve’s mouth drops open, over-stimulation rocketing him into absolute silence. Behind the frames of Steve’s glasses his eyes roll back in his head with Bucky thrusting into him once, twice more. With a long groan, Bucky releases on that second thrust. Steve whimpers as Bucky presses hard against his still sensitive prostate without relenting. That’s a sound Bucky knows, a sound that tells him it’s too much.

“Shit, sorry,” he says, unscrewing his fingers from Steve’s hips as the stars behind his eyes start to dim.

The chuckle Steve lets out sounds breathless, pleased. “Don’t apologize. That was -” Steve cuts his own sentence off. “Yeah, don’t apologize.” 

With a kiss Steve climbs off of Bucky to go clean himself up. When the shower starts Bucky takes a moment to look around the room devoid of a sexy professor. As if answering a silent question. Bucky jumps out of bed to stick a head in the bathroom. Steve is already in the shower stall, body blurred at the edges thanks to the combination of clear glass and steam.

“I think we’re only fulfilling the deal if we’re able to verify constant nakedness,” Bucky says, shutting the bathroom door to keep the heat in. Steve just laughs in response before putting his head under the spray. Taking a moment to pull the condom off, Bucky wraps it up and tosses it in the waste-bin. 

Climbing in the shower afterward, Steve takes no time spinning the younger man around as soon he enters the confines of the space. “Can I wash your back?” he breathes before nipping at Bucky’s earlobe. Bucky doesn’t need to answer, though. They both know every inch of him is Steve’s to do with as he pleases.


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Halfway out of the shower stall and in the process of wrapping a towel around his waist, Steve pauses to squint at Bucky. There’s no reason to believe he has any idea what just happened. Bucky hasn’t turned to face him, hasn’t looked away from the fingers of his left hand wrapped rather weakly around the sink basin. Out of the corner of his eye he watches Steve locate and slip his glasses back on. Suddenly Bucky feels like he’s on the verge of tears. He’s only been awake for twenty minutes at this point but the pain radiating up his arm now feels damn near unbearable._
> 
> _“_ Oh _.” The word is so quiet, so utterly soft, Bucky barely hears it. The air around them changes immediately, though, dripping with understanding and awareness. Then Steve’s behind Bucky, fingers gliding along the grooves of his rib cage before settling there. Rather than speak Steve softly tugs Bucky backwards, the younger man going easily though unable to meet Steve’s eyes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I really must have entered full on procrastination mode of school to be putting out another one of these. But considering finals are this week and next, I really shouldn't be surprised. I think I'm my most productive when I should be doing other things. :-D
> 
> Enjoy! As I said before, this is un-beta'd so all mistakes are mine.

3.

Sometimes when the sky is dark and grey, when the barometric pressure shifts to indicate the coming storm, Bucky can feel it as an ache in his arm. What’s left of his arm after all those operations. It would make sense for him to tell Steve. He would understand. But Bucky never does, preferring to stomp around the house like a child until his lover realizes what’s wrong. Which he does, without fail, every time.

Perhaps Steve’s spoiled him. Maybe now Bucky doesn’t even realize he’s testing Steve to see how long it will take for him to remember. Bucky knows he shouldn’t test Steve. When he stops to think, he knows. But when his shoulder hurts in the morning and he remembers why...he forgets all at the same time.

The glove came from some biorobotics division buried in the depths of a lab that’s funding comes from their work streamlining the use of fungi as packing material. The digits are sleek and silver, electromagnets designed to strengthen his declined muscles. They’re also _fucking_ heavy. 

Sometimes Bucky doesn’t want to put it on. 

Again, this is something he could just tell Steve. Steve would understand. Steve is made of understanding. And puppies. And possibly a porn star. This understanding/puppy/porn star combination would also simply know that meant Bucky didn’t leave the house because...well, because he didn’t.

Instead, Bucky often found himself biting Steve’s head off about everything leading up _to_ putting on the damn glove. Today was one of those days.

The comments start off small, right after Steve turns off his alarm. “If I wanted to wake up at ass in the morning I’d set my alarm for ass in the morning,” because Bucky’s wrist hurts something awful and he doesn’t see himself falling back to sleep any time soon after Steve knocked his phone off the nightstand.

Steve doesn’t say anything in response. Simply slips on his glasses and walks out of the room. It isn’t dramatic or pointed, it’s routine. Steve’s wake up time is routine. 

Groaning, Bucky uses his right hand to pull Steve’s pillow over his head. After a few moments of pulsing thought that’s moved to ache up at his elbow, he raises himself up on his right arm with a grunt and swings his legs over the side of the bed so he can dig in his side table. The bottle of painkillers is easy to find; it’s very large. Additionally, the easy-open top Steve helped him find for it flips right up. 

Bringing the bottle up to his lips, Bucky separates out one pill with the tip of his tongue and pulls the rest away from his mouth. Steve is standing next to him before Bucky even realizes he’s come back into the room. Extending a glass of water to Bucky, Steve slips the pill container out of his hand. Bucky takes the water, using it to wash his medicine down.

The words are out before he can stifle them, “You don’t have to baby me, I can swallow a fucking pill.” 

In response, probably without realizing it, Steve gives Bucky what he wants immediately. Steve’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline and he blinks slowly, lips curving at the edges, before turning and heading to the bathroom for his morning shower. _Routine_. 

In the time Bucky has known him, Steve has never snapped. No, when Steve is upset he likes to gather himself. It isn’t in an action large or dramatic, nothing that would satisfy any normal brat. But Bucky’s begun to find satisfaction in different things. Comfort even.

Up already, and absolutely not falling back asleep now, Bucky makes his way into the bathroom. The steam of the shower has entirely obscured Steve from view, which is a true pity because that sight could really turn a guy’s day around. Deciding against his comment about too much hot water that sounds inviting in his head but is probably pretty rude now that he thinks about it, Bucky pulls his toothbrush out of the medicine cabinet. Steve must be going for an efficient shower today because he’s done by the time Bucky rinses and spits.

Irrational disappointment settles in Bucky’s gut as if this is something Steve has done to him on purpose. Rather than using his language skills to form a sentence that explains this like an adult, he gives a frustrated whine and smacks his now-rinsed toothbrush down on the countertop. 

Halfway out of the shower stall and in the process of wrapping a towel around his waist, Steve pauses to squint at Bucky. There’s no reason to believe he has any idea what just happened. Bucky hasn’t turned to face him, hasn’t looked away from the fingers of his left hand wrapped rather weakly around the sink basin. Out of the corner of his eye he watches Steve locate and slip his glasses back on. Suddenly Bucky feels like he’s on the verge of tears. He’s only been awake for twenty minutes at this point but the pain radiating up his arm now feels damn near unbearable. 

“ _Oh_.” The word is so quiet, so utterly soft, Bucky barely hears it. The air around them changes immediately, though, dripping with understanding and awareness. Then Steve’s behind Bucky, fingers gliding along the grooves of his rib cage before settling there. Rather than speak Steve softly tugs Bucky backwards, the younger man going easily though unable to meet Steve’s eyes. 

Crowding Bucky toward the bed, Steve nudges him forward once they reach it. “Lay down,” he says, tone still soft. Bucky complies, climbing onto the bed carefully so as not to lose his balance. Typically this is when Steve would help him fasten his glove. Only, once Bucky settles he notices Steve doesn’t bring it over. As the thought crosses his mind it also occurs to Bucky that the pain has become a little soft around the edges. 

Stepping away from the bed, Steve snags Bucky’s cell phone off the bedside table before going into the other room. Bucky should say something, ask why. But he finds he’s not particularly bothered. 

The words that float through the door in hushed murmurs moments later seize up in Bucky’s throat. Words like ‘stomach virus’ and ‘vomiting all night’. It doesn’t take long for Bucky to realize they have nothing to do with his day. Steve must have taken his own phone as well. 

Unsure of how much time passes, Bucky looks up with surprise when Steve walks back into the room. He’s dangling Bucky’s phone between his fingers, “I may have impersonated you.” Without saying anything more Steve drops Bucky’s phone down onto the covers. Scooping it up, Bucky immediately unlocks the screen and scrolls to his texts.

 _Prof Sexy is sick. Cover for me in macro?_

Bucky’s face goes a deep shade of red as he takes in the message Steve sent to his friend Darcy. Before he can address how on _earth_ Steve found out what Darcy calls him, Darcy responds.

 _Sure thing, Simmons already emailed about a sub. At six. You think she sleeps?_

Something in Bucky’s chest unwinds. Before he can follow it all the way down the rabbit hole, fingers wrap around his ankle. 

Looking up, Bucky sees that Steve is watching him. What’s loosened constricts again painfully. “You’re gonna miss your tra-” The word dies in Bucky’s throat as Steve shakes his head.

“Told them to have Sam start, I’ll take over later. He needed to go on a field trip anyway.” Staring up at Steve, practically gaping, Bucky has difficulty making sense of the action. Steve’s words are casual, entirely unbothered. 

But, “That was stupid. Why would you show up late? You’ve been talking about that lecture all month.” Bucky doesn’t know what he expects out of that statement. It’s come out much harsher than he intends and he can’t pull his eyes away as he waits for the older man to react. For the second time that morning, Steve’s eyebrows shoot up and his lips form that incredulous smile. 

Expecting a scolding, Bucky’s afraid to move an inch. After what feels like an eternity of that smile, Steve finally speaks. “I wouldn’t be able to concentrate, you damn punk. Now lay down before I rethink the ridiculous amount of slack I’m giving you right now.” Steve punctuates his sentence by pressing a kiss to the inside of Bucky’s knee.

Doing what he’s told, Bucky lays back against their pillows. Except his body has started shaking and the look that falls over Steve’s face is heartbreaking. “Shhh,” Steve says, climbing up next to Bucky slowly. “We’re gonna forget,” he says, the words immediately spreading through Bucky like relief. “I’m gonna make us forget.”

This method is honed through years of nightmares combined with visits to the pain doctor. Steve’s breath on Bucky’s neck grounds him, his lips remind Bucky that he’s miles away from fear. Those sames lips breath life into Bucky when they connect with his, fastening him to the older man above him and driving him with purpose. They remind him that soon he’ll only have one thing on his mind. 

Pulling away, Steve searches Bucky’s face. Another quick kiss and Steve slides down Bucky’s body. Popping his semi-erect dick out, Steve doesn’t hesitate before wrapping his lips around it. As much as Bucky loves getting his cock sucked, as easy as it would be to close his eyes and slide into the feeling of warm mouth, his forces himself to identify the feelings of safety Steve’s suction gives him. The thought would make him laugh if it wasn’t so damn comforting.

Because after safety comes…

The arousal starts behind his balls, a tugging reminder that Bucky’s still in there. It spreads through his groin attached to a delicious heat that continues on into Steve’s mouth and down his throat. To bury his dick farther Bucky rocks his hips upward and the older man groans with the satisfaction of being able to distract his lover. 

Propping his head up on his left forearm, Bucky reaching his right hand down to slide fingers through Steve’s soft blond hair. Glasses resting askew on his nose, Bucky takes a moment to tap a nail against the frames. The grunt of affirmation Steve lets loose around Bucky’s cock has Bucky sliding the glasses from their perch. Steve grunts again, a pleased one that leaves Bucky shuttering.

Pulling off with a pop, Steve smiles up at Bucky. “Welcome back,” he says. The words are teasing, but his eyes are fixed intently on Bucky’s face. 

It takes everything in Bucky to suppress the phrase that tries to roll so easily off his tongue. It echos through his head with past utterances that remind him of how fitting the words are. _Welcome back_.

Rather than the denial he would have formed in the past, Bucky eases his left arm out from under his head. He lifts his hand up to rest the palm on Steve’s forehead. “Less talking,” Bucky says, exerting as much pressure as he can. 

A wide grin breaks across Steve’s face as he manages to nuzzle into Bucky’s weak hand. The hand he rarely uses. The hand that’s pain has diminished to the echo of a dull roar over the course of Steve ministration. Then Steve is sinking back down, swallowing Bucky whole in one fell swoop. 

A surprised moan rips it’s way from Bucky’s throat. He only has time to force out a broken, “Ah, _Steve_ ,” before he shoots into the older man’s mouth. Steve sucks him through his orgasm. Once he’s done coming Steve continues to work his mouth around Bucky’s cock, licking and sucking at the softening skin. 

It isn’t until Bucky whimpers that Steve pulls off with a wicked grin. “Sleep well,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s forehead and attempted to step away. Toward his closet. Suits. 

The haze of orgasm has done quite a number on Bucky, but he does his best to shove it aside. “Wait, what about you?” he asks.

The erection Steve is sporting is particularly obvious through his boxers now that he’s standing. Even still, he shakes his head. “Let’s just say I’m making sure I can still get enjoyment out of blue balls before I teach you all about them,” Steve tells Bucky with a wink.

The trains must really run close in the mornings, because Steve doesn’t wait for Bucky’s response. The suit pants Steve pulls out of the closet look promising but he has a _hell_ of a time buttoning them around his persistent hard-on.

By the time Steve is fully dressed Bucky has sat up completely. He’s having difficulty taking his gaze off the mouthwatering sight in front of him of his experienced lover fighting an erection. When Steve tells him that’s exactly why he’s still fighting that erection, Bucky laughs.

“Just encouraging you to come home quickly,” he says quietly.

On the way out of the bedroom, Steve pauses in the doorway. “Let me know if your arm’s still bothering you when I get off work and I’ll refill your Vicodin. We ran out just before that last storm.” With that he’s gone and Bucky feels the words explode in his chest. 

Because Steve takes care of him, him and all of his pained pieces. Literally.


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The instances in which they are able to make it outside of town to have a nice night, they always make it something special._
> 
> _Tonight was supposed to be one of those night._
> 
> _The intention was to see a movie, get dinner, and then finish up with a bar just outside of town so that Bucky can have the appropriate college bar experiences even though he’s dating someone easily ten years his senior. Steve’s words, not Bucky’s._
> 
> _Convincing Steve that it makes more sense to go to the bar first, that’s kind of where their plans halt._
> 
> _Steve wants to take Bucky in a bathroom stall, fast and dirty. Since Bucky hasn’t developed Steve’s affinity for a quick stretch, Steve has to use the packet of lube he brought to open Bucky up slow and carefully._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An: Eeeer, I'll just leave this here. And thank you so much to everyone reading, I'm so incredibly happy you're enjoying my stress relief. <3

4.

Going out isn’t something Bucky and Steve get to do often. It isn’t for lack of trying. Unfortunately, between Bucky’s school schedule and Steve’s own they have trouble carving out time that isn’t waking up or going to bed. 

To add insult to injury, because the university policy on student-teacher fraternization is so vague with regard to professors outside of one’s degree path, Steve prefers to drive out of town when they _do_ go out. He would rather keep their relationship out of the university’s eyesight in favor of claiming he was unaware of a conflict should anything ever come of it. 

This limitation works against them more often than not when they’ve got nothing but a few spare hour before they have to prepare for the next day.

The instances in which they are able to make it outside of town to have a nice night, they always make it something special.

Tonight was supposed to be one of those night.

The intention was to see a movie, get dinner, and then finish up with a bar just outside of town so that Bucky can have the appropriate college bar experiences even though he’s dating someone easily ten years his senior. Steve’s words, not Bucky’s. 

Convincing Steve that it makes more sense to go to the bar first, that’s kind of where their plans halt.

Steve wants to take Bucky in a bathroom stall, fast and dirty. Since Bucky hasn’t developed Steve’s affinity for a quick stretch, Steve has to use the packet of lube he brought to open Bucky up slow and carefully. After that he’s able to slip a condom on and drive into Bucky steadily, pinning him against the wall as he does.

The actions are hasty in the way that fucking in a bathroom stall is hasty. But Bucky doesn't bottom that much and Steve’s lips drag words of encouragement across the skin between his shoulder blades. 

“So beautiful, so good. Damn Buck, look at you. Bowed and -” Steve cuts himself off to put a hand on Bucky's jaw. Moving willingly, Bucky twists his head back and Steve captures his mouth in a kiss.

Dropping his hand back to Bucky's hips, Steve licks into Bucky's mouth as he pulls him back onto him. Bucky keens at the added weight Steve's grip provides. Steve swallows the sound, matching it with a moan of his own as he does.

The bathroom door flies open, handle banging against the wall. “Fuck I gotta piss.” 

Neither recognize the voice, thankfully. And they don't stop. In fact, Steve decides to pull almost all the way out before slamming back into Bucky. As Steve does this he pulls his lips away and brings one hand up to cover Bucky’s mouth. Bucky sinks his teeth into Steve’s palm when the older man hits his prostate, vision whiting out for a moment. 

The man that had walked in previously commences his time at the urinal, letting out a happy sigh as he relieves himself. 

Almost in answer Steve grips Bucky’s hips with one hand as he uses the leverage of his other hand on Bucky’s mouth to help pull him back against him repeatedly. 

Bucky wants to scream, Steve can feel it in the way he shutters. Bucky drops his forehead against the stall door. Fingers curled into fists press to the plastic as Bucky looks down at his leaking cock over the top of the hand Steve still has covering his mouth.

The bathroom door slams again and Steve doesn't hesitate. He brings his hand down to wrap around an aching Bucky. 

The sound Bucky lets out is a mixture between a contented sigh and a groan. Steve has him bent forward again, lips fitting back to their space between Bucky’s shoulder blades as he strokes him in time with their thrusts. 

“So tight, so gorgeous. Dammit Buck, love you.” The words are accompanied by Bucky’s shivers and Steve can feel himself getting close. “Come for me. Wanna see you -” Steve barely finishes the sentence before Bucky let's out a long moan and comes in his hand.

With Bucky clenching around Steve as he orgasms, Steve isn't far behind. He empties himself into the condom with a moan of his own, dragging his teeth along the top of Bucky’s spine as he comes.

The two stand there like that for a bit, Steve panting against Bucky’s skin as they gather themselves. Finally he takes his hand off Bucky’s quickly softening dick and uses his other hand to hold onto the condom as he pulls out. 

“You know,” Bucky begins as he grabs some toilet paper off the roll to wipe himself up. “We probably could have done this at a bar in the city limits.” 

Chuckling as he pulls up and fastens his pants, Steve shrugs. “Yeah, but now when we go out there I won’t worry about who knows I fucked you in the bathroom,” he says, punctuating the statement by pulling Bucky into a searing kiss.

Bucky smiles against Steve’s mouth as he buckles his own pants, “Oh yeah.”

They slip out of the stall, both pausing at the sink to wash their hands and check their clothing. With a parting kiss, Steve heads back into the bar first. It’s a move honed over time. _Just in case._

But Steve missed something. Didn't expect. The voice that starts in his ear mere steps away from the bathroom sets disgust simmering in his abdomen. 

“You know, I had Barnes in freshman algebra. I always did wonder what it would sound like when he came.” Pierce is a tenured professor at the university. Apparently with a voyeuristic streak. 

Already barely holding on, Steve feels a growl rising in his throat. “That was you,” he says of the man that walked into the bathroom and apparently didn't actually leave.

Smiling, Pierce nods. “What I'm wondering, professor,” he begins, pausing for a moment to smile at something in the empty space. “Is if his ass if worth losing your job over? If it is, I might actually have to take a turn.”

If Steve had been thinking he would have brushed Pierce off in favor of when they were alone. But Steve doesn't always think where Bucky is concerned.

It’s a testament to the patronage of the bar that no one blinks an eye when Steve shoves Pierce back against a brick wall on the other side of the pool tables.

Rage fills Steve’s eyes as shaking hands pin Pierce. “I loved that kid long before I had this job and I will love him long after. You talk about him like that again and I will make damn sure I get fired for assaulting an upper faculty member.” The words finally utilize the growl that intensifies as Pierce looks around in panic.

“Steve? Steve, the fuck are you doing?!” Bucky’s hands are on Steve in seconds, pulling him backwards. 

Clearly emboldened by Bucky’s panic, Pierce smiles as Bucky pulls Steve away. “You two come here at least once a month. Were you trying to be subtle? What do you think Nick is going to say when he finds out you’ve been fucking one of your students?” He sounds so absolutely smug that Steve should be surprised when Bucky snorts with amusement.

But he isn't. Bucky is nothing if not the holder of perfect timing. “For starters, I'm not one of his students. I'm a student at the university. There’s a difference. Second,” Bucky pauses to shake his head, glancing away from the pompous older man. Suddenly a large grin is spreading across his face. “One shouldn't speculate about Papa Fury. It’s not polite.”

As quickly as Steve began to enjoy Bucky’s confrontation with Pierce, he feels the blood drain from his face. Because Bucky only calls Nick ‘Papa Fury’ when -

“Boy, I swear I told you if you call me Papa Fury one more time I'm gonna have your ass put on academic suspension,” Nick says from behind Steve. “As for you,” Steve shifts just slightly to see that Nick has directed his words at Pierce. “You think I don't know what's going on at my own damn school? He’s friends with my daughter for Christ’s sake. I expected better of you, Alex.”

Once Pierce has unceremoniously scrambled out of the bar, Nick turns to Steve and Bucky. “I asked Natasha once if I needed to worry about you two,” he says. “She said I didn't. So my question right now is, what the hell are you doing in my favorite bar?”

Shifting back and forth, Bucky looks to Steve to see he's trying to formulate an answer. Finally, “This place is more popular than we thought?” Steve says.

Nick fixes Steve with a damn near murderous glare, “Get the hell out of here so I can enjoy my nightcap in peace. And I swear to god, Barnes, if Natasha doesn't pass Russian I am holding you personally responsible.”

As annoyed as Nick looks, Steve points a finger at Bucky. “I _knew_ you hadn't finished your project,” he says with a laugh.

Bucky grabs Steve’s hand, groaning at the way Nick has fixed his glare on him. “Come on you traitor.”

Out in the night air, Steve pins Bucky against side of the building. “You knew he liked to come here,” Steve says incredulously. 

Having the decency the blush, Bucky averts his eyes from Steve. “I definitely didn't know Pierce frequented this establishment,” Bucky says by way of non-answer. 

“Bucky.”

“And how weird that we’ve never seen them here before -”

“Bucky.”

“- coming here for months like we have been apparently just missing them by -”

“I swear to god, James Buchanan Barnes,” Steve says finally sliding a leg up and between Bucky’s.

Thoughtlessly Bucky grinds down on the pressure, “Nat said Fury only cares about stuff that f-fucks with his day.” Steve presses up into Bucky as he speaks. “I thought maybe if he saw us together -”

Bucky’s words cut off when Steve grinds forward again. “He knew about us?” Steve asks, dragging his lips against Bucky’s without actually giving in to kiss him.

Nodding Bucky tries to press forward unsuccessfully. With a frustrated whine Bucky let's words tumble out, “He heard me telling her - unnn - telling her about that time you saved me from those bullies when I was seven,” he says.

“Ah, the tales of skinny Steve,” he says with a sigh, thinking back to his seventeen year old self. It isn’t fair. He knows what that memory is to Bucky. How important. But it also puts their age gap in sharp focus and reminds Steve of how frail he was even at seventeen taking care of a kid.

Bucky shakes his head, snaking his hands around Steve’s wrists when he tries to pull away. When he speaks now his voice has lost it's lusty quality, as if he’s caught up to the conversation they’re actually having. “Fury already knew, Stevie. About us, I didn't - I wasn't the one the outed us,” he says, hands digging into Steve’s wrists like the pressure will make him understand. “So when he came out of the kitchen he looked really annoyed. Natasha said she didn't know he was home. He said, ‘You've known him since you were seven?’ But he was sighing and pressing a hand to his forehead. I said yeah. So he asks, ‘When did you two get - um, ah fuck me - when did you two get physical?’ I told him that was just two years ago. Then he kind of breathed out and said, ‘I don't even have time for you two. Just don't make any waves.’”

Staring at Bucky for the few moments it takes Steve to make sense of that story and figure out how he feels, when he does he starts to laugh. 

Bucky furrows his eyebrows, “Did I finally break you?”

This time the kiss Steve gives Bucky is the kiss he meant to give him while they sat at a table like a normal couple. They can't do that, not really. But Bucky forced them that much closer, always there when Steve’s bravery starts to falter. 

“Just promise me you'll go somewhere else for grad school.”

“Deal. Let’s go home.”


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It’s easy to tell something is wrong when Bucky wakes up in the middle of the night to find Steve’s side of the bed empty. Throwing back the covers, surprised by the chill in the air when his arm feels so normal, Bucky is standing intent on searching the apartment in moments._
> 
> _Wracking his brain for where Steve would go looking, Bucky comes to a stumbling halt._
> 
> _Because Steve didn't even make it around the apartment, let alone find his rescue inhaler. Instead he’s sat on the livingroom floor halfway to the guest bathroom, having propped himself stiff-backed against a wall. His breathing is slow and even, but clearly purposeful and restricted._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An: Please forgive me for how short this is! I just had this bug I absolutely had to get out.
> 
> As always, this isn't beta'd but I hope you enjoy!

5.

‘Intuitive’ has never been a word Bucky would use to describe himself. In fact, it’s safe to say he’s grossly out of touch with most of the goings on around him. Darcy likes to joke that if there were a natural disaster and everyone was running past Bucky, screaming, he’d continue on until _he_ felt there was reason enough to stop...such as being hit by a gigantic wave. 

Not one to argue fairly factual claims, Bucky takes these jokes in stride. Because it doesn't matter. But Steve would beg to disagree if he heard her. See, Steve thinks Bucky has fantastic intuition. Every time Bucky swallows Steve down or crooks a finger inside of him, Bucky is sure Steve is praising his ability to know exactly what Steve wants.

They laugh at this because sexual intuition is quite a different story. But they also laugh because, if “Knowing what Steve Rogers needs” was a sport, Bucky could actually medal in his sleep.

It’s easy to tell something is wrong when Bucky wakes up in the middle of the night to find Steve’s side of the bed empty. Throwing back the covers, surprised by the chill in the air when his arm feels so normal, Bucky is standing intent on searching the apartment in moments.

Wracking his brain for where Steve would go looking, Bucky comes to a stumbling halt.

Because Steve didn't even make it around the apartment, let alone find his rescue inhaler. Instead he’s sat on the livingroom floor halfway to the guest bathroom, having propped himself stiff-backed against a wall. His breathing is slow and even, but clearly purposeful and restricted.

“Where?” 

Steve barely even opens his eyes. “I don't know.” Bucky can hear the words Steve forms with his lips, but he’s not entirely sure there is any actual vocalization behind them.

Okay. Right. Steve hasn't needed it in at least a year.

“Okay.” _Fuck._

Pushing down the panic that threatens to well up in his chest and refusing to look at Steve sitting on the floor like an approximation of a broken Ken doll, Bucky thinks. When he was a teenager he kept a rescue inhaler in his bedside drawer. It’s been a long time since that inhaler expired let alone since Steve lives in that apartment, but Bucky knows he used to be in the habit of stashing them all over the place.

“Bucky.” This time the word is definitely vocalized. A warning. 

If Bucky doesn't find the inhaler soon they’re going to need to take a trip to the emergency room. He doesn't even know how long Steve has been sitting out here.

“I know, Stevie. I know,” Bucky says. He has no doubt Steve can hear the shutter of fear in his voice. They've never had to cut it so close, he'd rather not start now.

Well, first things first. Bucky stands and heads into the guest bath. If Steve was going that way it meant he’d already checked their bathroom.

Pulling a basket out from under the sink, Bucky digs around before confirming the inhaler isn't in there. Next he checks the medicine cabinet itself, but no dice. Finally he checks the cabinet above the toilet and feels the surge of relief when he sees the inhaler.

Grabbing it off the top shelf, where apparently they’d set it for ‘safe keeping’ nine months earlier, Bucky heads back out to Steve. By now he’s starting to lose that calm demeanor they’d taught him to keep over the years for when he has asthma attacks in addition to his color. Bucky can read the panic in Steve’s eyes, something similar to what had stared at him after Bucky’s accident. Pushed down as deep as he could, but still seeping up over the edges.

Kneeling in front of Steve, Bucky hands him the inhaler. Quickly raising it to his lips, Steve pumps the steroid while breathing it into his lunges. The effect is obvious almost immediately and both men visibly relax. Steve’s breathing is still difficult, but it’s evening out and the panic is fading from his eyes.

Heaving a relieved sigh, Bucky joins Steve against the wall. Steve’s breathing is still measured, but it's quickly returning to normal. Bucky can tell when the tightness in Steve’s chest unravels because he lays down right there on the floor, putting his head in Bucky’s lap. Bringing a hand up to comb through Steve’s hair, both men give themselves a moment to just _breathe_.

Eventually Steve pushes himself back into a seated position. Bucky is quite close to dozing off and Steve has to shake him gently. “Come on, pal. Let's go back to bed.” Steve’s voice is soft, as if he doesn't really want to wake Bucky up.

Without opening his eyes, Bucky nods in response and stands. Leading Bucky back to the room with his eyes closed is no easy feat. But somehow Steve navigates him flawlessly. 

Once in bed, groggy as Bucky is, the threat tumbles from his lips without preamble, “Next time you have an asthma attack in the middle of the night and don't wake me up, I'm going to find your inhaler just so I can fucking suffocate you myself.”

The snort Steve gives in response is the perfect balance between amusement and incredulity. “Yes sir,” he says quietly before leaning over to kiss Bucky.

Sure, ‘intuitive’ is never a word Bucky would use to describe himself. But maybe that’s fair. Maybe it’s not the right word. Knowing how to read Steve Rogers isn't exactly intuition so much as a hard fought battle to make sure the one man that never asks for help knows he’s never alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of smut in this bit! I'm sure it'll be back in the next! Hehe


	6. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _When Steve opens the door he only has the chance to register two things; it’s not Tony and why does Peggy look so pissed? Then his head is snapping back with the force of her punch and she’s pushing past him into the apartment. Otherwise she doesn’t say a damn thing. Steve lets the front door close with a slam, unintentionally heedless of the other residents but immediately regretting his rudeness._
> 
> _“Well good evening Peg. In town for a visit I see,” Steve says rather than letting himself dwell on it. His voice is muffled by his hand as he checks to see if she broke his nose._
> 
> _Without acknowledging Steve’s words Peggy begins speaking, accent thick with anger. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to end your night with someone telling you that the_ man _that lived in your house for_ years _is sleeping with your baby brother?” she snaps. Steve lets his eyes drop closed, choosing not to respond immediately._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hello there! Here is another drabble full of confusing plottiness I have not explained but rather chose to leave hanging in the air like MYSTERY. Oh, and sex. I hope you enjoy!

6.

The banging starts sometime around three in the morning. At least that’s what the clock reads when Steve looks at it after the noise shocks him out of sleep. 

“What the fuuuuuuck?” Bucky groans from his spot with his face mashed between Steve’s shoulder blades.

Taking a moment to gather his bearings, Steve looks sleepily around the room as if something would be amise. Finally he sighs. “I’ll go, I’ll get it. Just stay in bed.” The words are sleep-drunk and thick in his mouth. 

With a snuffle, Bucky does as he’s told, curling into the pillow when Steve drags himself up.

Pulling on a t-shirt as he walks, Steve hopes it isn’t Tony at the door. Sure, the man has tenure and a name on one of the buildings. But if he falls asleep on the Dean’s lawn again, he’s going to get fired.

When Steve opens the door he only has the chance to register two things; it’s not Tony and why does Peggy look so pissed? Then his head is snapping back with the force of her punch and she’s pushing past him into the apartment. Otherwise she doesn’t say a damn thing. Steve lets the front door close with a slam, unintentionally heedless of the other residents but immediately regretting his rudeness.

“Well good evening Peg. In town for a visit I see,” Steve says rather than letting himself dwell on it. His voice is muffled by his hand as he checks to see if she broke his nose.

Without acknowledging Steve’s words Peggy begins speaking, accent thick with anger. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to end your night with someone telling you that the _man_ that lived in your house for _years_ is sleeping with your baby brother?” she snaps. Steve lets his eyes drop closed, choosing not to respond immediately. “‘Hey mum, what are your plans this weekend?’ ’Oh, I’m gonna take Steve and Bucky out to a belated anniversary dinner.’ ‘Their what’s that?’ ‘Oh shit.’ It was a great conversation, really strengthened our mother-daughter bond.” Here she stops ranting to kick Steve in the shin.

“Ow! Peg, stop,” Steve says, hopping a little awkwardly to put some distance between himself and Peggy. He wants to be indignant, but he knows he doesn’t have a leg to stand on. 

“And why does mum know and I don’t?” she adds, advancing on him. “You hid this from me for two fucking years? Seriously?”

Steve backs up quickly. “Because clearly you’re taking it so well,” he says, putting the dining room table between them.

“I’m only taking it like this because you didn't tell me. Which makes me feel like you know you’re a creep that likes little boys,” Peggy spits out, suddenly more malicious than he's heard her since they were kids.

Pausing where he’d previously been preparing for her next move, Steve is surprised by the way the sentence hit him. Right in the guilt. Peggy doesn’t know it, but this would be her opportunity to beat the shit out of him. He wouldn’t stop her. She’s already made such good strides.

“What is wrong with you?” Bucky’s voice comes from the staircase. Both Peggy and Steve turn to see him, eyes fixed on his sister.

Shaking her head, Peggy turns toward the stairs. “He’s known you since before you were born, James. That doesn’t bother you in the least?”

Bucky arches an eyebrow at her, making his way down. “Oh, better that they don’t have any emotional connections to me?”

That sentence hits Steve in the gut harder than any comment Peggy could have made.

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Peggy says. But something in her tone has deflated. Perspective is an amazing thing.

Once Bucky reaches the bottom, he counties speaking as he goes to the kitchen. “No, you’re trying to tell me I should be bothered by the only guy in my life that hasn’t tried to take advantage of me because our relationship doesn’t fit into your box of norms.”

Peggy arches an eyebrow at Steve, “Norms, huh?”

Steve shrugs. “Yeah, well, we spend a lot of time around each other.”

Bucky comes back from the kitchen with ice in a washcloth to hand to Steve. “You don’t get to come into our home in the middle of the night and tell us that how we’re living isn’t okay because our birthdates aren’t convenient for you -”

“- I don’t think that’s the point, Buck -”

“Shut up, I’m making a statement. She’ll get it. You get it, right Peg?”

By this point Peggy has sunk down onto the living room sofa. “Yeah, I get it,” she says distractedly.

The two men share a glance. “Come again?” Bucky asked.

Following her line of sight, Steve realizes that her silence probably has less to do with Bucky’s ability to make a point and more to do with the four pictures on the mantel. They aren’t arranged in any particular order but they were all there prior to Bucky moving in, before they got together. They all take place in the span of time between when Bucky had his accident and when the two became a couple.

Steve knows Peggy remembers them. They were the centerpiece of an entire conversation when she came to town for a job interview a few years before. He remembers answering her incredibly innocent questions, his heart pounding the entire time as if at any point she’d really hear him and _know_.

It feels like Peggy is realizing, in retrospect, she should have known. 

“You’ve been in love with him since he was _sixteen_?” Peggy says finally.

The color drains from Steve’s face as he sees Bucky freeze out of the corner of his eye. “Come again?” Bucky repeats. 

Still looking at Steve, Peggy points at Bucky. “He doesn’t know that?” 

Closing his eyes slowly, Steve shakes his head.

“Wonderful. I hope you’re embarrassed,” she grumbles. Then to Bucky, “Since the accident.” Back to Steve, “I should have known. You were at the hospital every night afterward.”

Feeling each reveal of personal information like a spike in his adrenaline, Steve chances a glance at Bucky. Bucky who is still staring at him. His mouth isn’t actually dropped open, but it might as well be.

“I will set your house on fire,” Steve says finally, before turning back to Peggy. Because when someone shaves your eyebrow off when you’re both teenages, a sort of camaraderie is built.

Without even flinching Peggy fixes both men with the most pathetic gaze. “Why didn't you tell me?”

Thankfully Bucky takes this opportunity to speak up. “Dad doesn't know either,” he says quietly.

Sighing, Peggy arches an eyebrow at Bucky. “Didn’t you learn anything from that _lovely_ man that you dated?” Her voice is dripping in sarcasm. “What was his name? Rumlow?”

Steve looks between the two. “Who’s Rumlow? Why don't I know about this?”

The look on Peggy’s face is downright annoyed. “Don’t you remember me writing you? You were away at school,” she says, not taking her eyes off Bucky. “Bucky started dating this guy, but he knew mum and dad wouldn't like him -”

“Peggy please don-”

“So he didn't tell them about him. But then one day he came home -”

“Goddamit Peg!”

Something in Bucky’s voice must tell Peggy it was genuinely time to stop. She closes her mouth with a snap and crosses her arms over her chest almost victoriously as Bucky doesn’t say anything more in favor of glaring murderously. 

Conversely, Steve has stiffened in the kitchen doorway. “Bucky…” Steve says softly, eyes landing on his lover. Because he does actually remember that. Sure, he wasn’t around for it, but at the time Peggy painted quite a picture.

Bucky doesn't look at him in favor of responding to Peggy. “This isn’t anything like that. I didn't want him thinking of Steve differently if this shit didn't pan out…” he trails off at the end, eyes darting to Steve. The sentence hangs in the air as if he’d said it out loud, _How was I supposed to know ‘not an option’ actually meant ‘not an option’?_

The snort that comes out of Peggy after that is the perfect punctuation to the unspoken sentiment. “I hate to break it to you, dear, but he is _absolutely_ going to think of the man railing his son differently,” she says, lips pressed into a line. 

Clearing his throat, Steve arches an eyebrow. “What if his son’s railing the man? You think that will go over any better?” Only Steve doesn’t make jokes like that and his eyes are hard.

“Oh honestly, Steve,” Peggy says, rolling her eyes.

“Honestly, what? You’ve known the Barnes’ since before Bucky was born, too. So tell me, would they rather their kid get pegged or would they rather him do the pegging?” The phrase isn’t snapped, Steve doesn’t snap. Steve’s sentences are always measured and he means every word.

With a sigh and a shake of her head Peggy stands from the sofa. “Be as defensive as you’d like, but you are right about one thing; I’ve known them long enough to know they just want us all to be happy.” She gives Bucky and Steve a peck on the cheek each, both men leaning into it as if they didn’t just get into an argument with her. Without another word she leaves the apartment.

The door barely closes before Bucky is talking, “Sixteen, dude? What the fuck?”

Steve scrubs his hands over his face. “Come on, Buck. Let’s get back in bed,” he says, tone unintentionally pleading.

Staring at Steve for a long moment, finally Bucky sighs and snags one of Steve hands with his left one. The fingers of Bucky's left hand are soft to the touch, probably because of the lack of exposure during the day.

A surge of gratitude shoots through Steve as Bucky leads them back toward the stairs.

The two don't make it farther than climbing into bed before Bucky’s speaking again. “I mean, that’s like eight years,” he blurts suddenly.

In his motion to turn off his bedside lamp Steve tenses. The hesitation isn't more than an instant before Steve is pulling the string. “Bucky,” Steve doesn’t know what to follow the name with. He hasn't known since Peggy came in and outed Steve as the pining sack he is. So instead he trails off. Again.

Fingers on Steve’s face surprise him. Finding himself staring into Bucky’s eyes, face lit up by the moon through the window, Steve takes a moment to process what he sees there.

Hunger.

Bucky climbs on Steve without preamble, mouth fastening to the older man’s neck. The motion rips a groan from Steve’s throat at the same time as he feels a damn near giddy smile try and take over his face. 

“You mother fucker,” Bucky sighs, lips dragging against Steve’s skin as he speaks. To punctuate Bucky’s statement he grinds down into Steve, thighs squeezing Steve’s hips. 

Arching against the bed, Steve tries to follow Bucky’s lips. This elicits a chuckle from Bucky followed by a series of nips along Steve's ribs and abdomen.

Steve almost fucking comes right there. 

“What did you want to do to me?” The sentence is sudden, Bucky rising to press his lips to Steve’s ear. The delivery is filthy right down to the last syllable and Steve know’s exactly what Bucky’s asking. 

Only Steve feels the question with a surge of white hot anger.

In an instant Steve’s taken hold of Bucky’s thighs, anchoring himself as he flips them over. One of Steve’s arms rises to support himself as they settle and Bucky shivers in the space.

The answer is more of a growl than intended when it comes out, “I wanted to worship you.” 

A flush quickly rushes up Bucky’s neck and Steve chases the reddened skin with his mouth. Whether it was embarrassment at Steve’s stern response to his question or not, it doesn’t really matter. Steve will take Bucky in whatever blush he comes.

Commencing kissing down Bucky’s abdomen, Steve now makes a beeline for his cock. The noise Bucky lets out as Steve sucks him down is better than any underaged fantasy could ever be and Steve hopes to hell that Bucky understands.

Pulling off Bucky with a pop when Steve feels the younger man push at his shoulder, his looks up into dark eyes. “Wanna come inside,” is all Bucky manages to bite out. 

Nodding, Steve dives for the bedside table and comes back with what they need.

Steve’s preparation is quick and dirty, just like he wants it. He can already feel how close Bucky is to coming. Both men let out a groan when Bucky sinks into Steve, encouraged by Steve’s pawing at his hip. The fingers of Bucky’s right hand immediately wrap around Steve’s cock and he knows neither of them are going to last very long.

A pleased grunt is ripped from Bucky’s vocal chords when Steve changes their angle by sitting back in Bucky’s lap. Giving his ass an extra grind, Steve feels Bucky’s nails dig into his left hip, “ _Steve._ ”

The hand on Steve’s cock quickens letting him know exactly how close his younger lover is. In response, Steve bounces himself in Bucky’s lap with renewed vigor and is rewarded when Bucky stiffens underneath him. Never one to forget his manners, Bucky continues stroking Steve even as he shoots into the condom. So close, Bucky wraps his left arm around Steve’s torso and pulls him flush against him. That combined with a few purposeful twists of his hand have Steve spilling over Bucky’s fingers in no time.

Laying in bed a little while later, having disposed of the condom and both washed up, Steve feels something nagging at him that won’t let him fall asleep. He blames the early hour for how long it takes him to remember what Bucky said when they were getting down to business.

“Buck?” 

The reply is soft, nothing more than a grunt of acknowledgement.

Trying to think of the best way to say it, Steve sighs. “You asked me what I wanted to do to you,” he says, deciding for a direct approach. Next to him, Bucky tenses as if he’d forgotten as well.

“Steve…”

“No, hear me out,” Steve interrupts. Because Bucky suddenly sounds utterly exhausted in a way that has nothing to do with that quickie and this isn’t going to be one of _those_ conversations. “I fell for you when you were still a kid. But I didn’t _want_ anything out of you -” Steve cuts himself off, shaking his head because Bucky’s already frowning. “I take that back. I wanted - I wanted to see who you were gonna turn into,” he says, trying to figure out exactly how he wants to phrase it. “What kind of person you were gonna be.”

Something in Bucky’s face seems to shut down and Steve feels it like panic. “Is that why you waited?” Hand reaching up to scratch the back of his head in the self-deprecating way he does, Steve sees the discussion spinning in that direction before he can stop it. “I wasn’t exactly someone to be proud of back -”

Steve cuts him off with a searing kiss. “Shut up,” he breathes against Bucky’s lips. “You were always someone to be proud of, who you fucked doesn’t take away from that.” Holding Bucky’s gaze, Steve feels the softening in Bucky’s eyes like warmth through his entire body.

“Sometimes I forget.”

“Well, then I’ll have to keep reminding you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, these chapters are not beta'd. All mistakes are mine. <3


	7. 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Disappearing into the bathroom, Steve returns quickly. Only now he’s holding...a lighter?_
> 
> _Steve goes to Bucky’s bedside table and pulls out his pain killers. Popping the top off, he hands Bucky one. Next Steve disappears into the closet. Emerging with a box in his hands, Steve is already trying to open it with the lighter clench firmly between his teeth._
> 
> _With a small noise of triumph Steve manages to open the box. He let's the lighter drop from his mouth into it before he smiles up at Bucky._
> 
> _“Dude. The fuck?” Bucky grumbles, setting his water next to his pill bottle on the bedside table._
> 
> _“Shhh grumpy,” Steve says, climbing back into bed. Bucky is halfway through an eye roll when Steve removes the contents of the box. Bucky doesn't say a word but watches Steve’s every movement as he sticks it between his lips and lights the tip._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: It's procrastination time again! That means chapters. haha I hope you guys enjoy this and thank you to anyone that keeps on reading! <3
> 
> OH! Half-beta'd by the amazing [TeaAndTricks](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaAndTricks/pseuds/TeaAndTricks) because she beta'd what I'd written and then I wrote more. hehe

7.

**\- Bucky -**

The first thing Bucky notices when he wakes up in the middle of the night is that he’s shaking. Damn near violently. His entire body is shuddering at odd intervals and he can’t make himself stop.

The second thing Bucky notices is Steve’s arms wrapped around his trembling frame. Steve is behind Bucky, Bucky pulled back against him with Steve’s lips pressed to his temple.

At first it’s hard to discern through the chatter of Bucky’s own teeth. Steve is repeating something. After a few more moments Bucky can understand the words.

“You’re okay. You’re okay, Buck. You’re okay. Come back to me. You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re okay. Please come back to me.”

Each syllable is raw, desperate. 

When Bucky’s body begins to calm he isn't sure if his shaking is subsiding or if he’s fighting it back through sheer force of will. 

Either way, behind him air fills Steve’s lunges. Bucky answers the gasp with an echoing deep, slow drag of air. 

“I’m sorry.” Bucky’s voice is wrecked to his own ears. 

Steve shakes his head, “No, you had a goddamn nightmare. You have nothing to apologize for.”

Swallowing, Bucky licks his lips. “I need water,” he rasps quietly. Steve presses a kiss to his shoulder before helping Bucky sit up. 

After Steve’s left the room, Bucky scrubs his hands over his face. The ache in his left hand from the chill in the air reminds Bucky of his nightmare and he tries to shake it out.

Coming back into the room, Steve pauses to watch Bucky’s movements. He arches an eyebrow when Bucky’s eye settle on him. “Attempting to take flight, Buck?”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Achy,” he says by way of explanation and Steve nods as he hands Bucky his water. 

Disappearing into the bathroom, Steve returns quickly. Only now he’s holding...a lighter? 

Steve goes to Bucky’s bedside table and pulls out his pain killers. Popping the top off, he hands Bucky one. Next Steve disappears into the closet. Emerging with a box in his hands, Steve is already trying to open it with the lighter clench firmly between his teeth. 

With a small noise of triumph Steve manages to open the box. He let's the lighter drop from his mouth into it before he smiles up at Bucky.

“Dude. The fuck?” Bucky grumbles, setting his water next to his pill bottle on the bedside table. 

“Shhh grumpy,” Steve says, climbing back into bed. Bucky is halfway through an eye roll when Steve removes the contents of the box. Bucky doesn't say a word but watches Steve’s every movement as he sticks it between his lips and lights the tip. 

Bucky’s tone isn't chastising so much as full of awe, “Where the fuck did that come from?”

Puffing a few times to make sure it’s lit, Steve passes the joint over to Bucky. “I could have a guy,” he says, voice suppressed as he holds in the smoke.

Bucky takes it from him but doesn't pull from it. Steve sighs, “Natasha. After your last nightmare.” 

Nodding, Bucky looks down at it. “I mean, I took my meds.” Even he can hear the hesitance in his voice and he internally rolls his eyes.

Steve smiles at Bucky patiently. “Yes. And last time you didn't go back to sleep because your hand bothered you for two days. I thought maybe we’d give this a try.” There’s a light teasing in Steve’s voice that Bucky appreciates. It’s less pitying and more logical. 

Bucky brings the joint to his lips and takes a drag. The smoke immediately fills his lungs and he exhales it quickly, instinctively. 

Letting out a snort, Steve snags it from Bucky’s hand and takes a smaller puff that he holds in longer. Bucky’s eye fix on his bare chest, watching the way it rises when Steve inhales. 

“It’s not a cigarette,” Steve says as he exhales.   
Bucky actually sticks his tongue out at Steve. “It’s not my first time at this rodeo,” he says. 

Bucky takes the joint back and tries again, pulling only to hold the smoke in his lungs. After a moment there’s a warmth in his chest quickly following by an increasing discomfort in his throat before Bucky breaks out in a hacking cough. 

Grinning, Steve takes the joint from him. “You sure about that?” he teases once more, handing Bucky his glass of water.

Flipping Steve off, Bucky takes a couple gulps in an effort to quell his seizing lungs. It works to a certain extent, his coughs diminishing in force. Bucky sets the cup down on his bedside table. 

Bucky narrows his eyes as Steve takes another small hit, “And when exactly did you make time to become a stoner?”

The answer isn't heavy or sad in and of itself. It’s simple. “After Sarah died,” he says, shrugging. “Kind of like riding a bike every time I've done it since,” he adds.

Taking the joint back as Steve holds it out, Bucky can't pull his eyes away from his partner. “Never felt the need to share that with me?” Eyes still fixed on Steve’s face, Bucky takes a hit and holds it in like Steve did. 

Steve’s responding grin is damn near self-deprecating. “Marijuana use before the frontal lobe is mostly developed his been linked to developmental deficits as well as long term deteriorative mental disorders such as schizophrenia,” he rattles off as if reading from a textbook.

Bucky rolls his eyes. 

Clearing his throat and grin fading, Steve takes the joint when Bucky hands it back. “You were in a lot of pain after the accident.” Steve’s lips press together in a thin line. “I didn't want you thinking escaping like that was okay. That it wouldn’t screw with your head.”

Coughing out as he laughs, Bucky puts a hand over his mouth in embarrassment. Dropping his hand, Bucky shakes his head at Steve. “You’re such a fucking boy scout,” he says, a pleased flush taking over his face.

Steve’s solemnity slowly drains from his expression. Bucky has a moment to contemplate why before he realizes his hand isn't anything but a distant pressure right now. Furthermore, a comfortable warmth has spread through his entire body. 

It’s as of Steve knows because he’s looking at Bucky with that dopey grin he gets every time Bucky really relaxes. 

Still. “You ever tell your ma I did this I will deny everything with a force and sincerity you’ll find truly astounding.” 

Despite the seriousness that laces Steve’s words, Bucky let's out a snort before dissolving into laughter. Steve has the decency to join him, taking another gentle hit with his gaze fixed on Bucky.

The pain is easy to read. Behind Steve’s loose smile and the haze of the drug Bucky can practically hear his internal sixteen year old screaming at his mother’s headstone. It takes him a moment to realize the memory is magnified by the substance affecting his senses. Bucky crawls forward without preamble and, as if reading his mind, Steve drops the joint in a little ashtray inside the box. 

Once Bucky is in Steve’s lap his arms fasten around the older man’s neck and they both just breathe in each other’s space. 

Because comfort isn't words or platitudes. Not for them. It never has been. Comfort is knowing that no matter what, after everything that’s happened, they are not alone. Not anymore. Not like they were.

When Bucky wakes up Steve is laying him down on his side of the bed, careful not to jostle his hand. Smiling up at Steve, Bucky attempts to snag the edge of his shirt with his right hand.

Steve smiles down at him, “Get some sleep, Buck. We’ll make up for it in the morning,” he says, brushing a thumb over Bucky’s bottom lip. Bucky makes a pleased hum at the touch before his eyes drift shut again.

In the morning when Bucky wakes up he’s groggy as hell, but his hand doesn't hurt at all. Most likely it’s the weed…

But there’s a good chance that Steve’s mouth around his dick has something to do with it.

“Unnn mother fucker,” Bucky groans when Steve realizes he’s awake and swallows him down whole. “Already halfway there. Not - mmm - not fair,” he bites out. Steve chuckles around him. The vibration does _not_ help the situation. The devious plans to make Bucky come are revealed when Steve slips a lubed finger inside of him. Bucky’s mouth falls open as Steve slides and then twists, knuckle grazing his prostate with expert precision. 

A few more sucks is all it takes for Bucky to tip over the edge, Steve’s finger making sure he rides it out fully. 

Waiting for Steve to lap him up fully, Bucky wastes no time in flipping him over once he’s done. Sliding down the bed, Bucky sucks Steve off fast and dirty in all the ways he loves. The gag that comes when Bucky takes Steve down too far is what tips the older man over the edge. He shoot into the back of Bucky’s mouth and Bucky swallows it quickly, throat working against the tip to milk him dry.

_You dirty motherfucker,_ Bucky thinks with a wicked smile around Steve’s cock as he cleans him.

As if hearing Bucky’s thoughts, Steve fits hands along his rib cage to pull him up. Bucky’s mouth comes off Steve with an amusing pop.

Short of the context, the kiss that comes isn't inherently dirty. Bucky’s legs slot between Steve’s as he settles against his chest. Fingers tils Bucky’s chin up and brush away hair that’s fallen across their faces. For just a moment Steve breathes against Bucky’s lips. Then he’s kissing him, long and slow like he wants to remember it.

Pulling back, Bucky presses his forehead against Steve’s with a contented sigh.

Then Steve shatters everything. 

“We’re supposed to be at the house in an house.”

**\- Steve -**

The two men have known each other for so long that sometimes Steve used to think Bucky forgot exactly why they know each other. It’s easier for Steve to remember, he was so much older when he came to live with Bucky’s family. For all intents and purposes, Steve is someone that Bucky has essentially always known. 

Sometimes, when Steve’s mother was alive, Sarah would tell him stories of herself and Bucky’s mom as girls. She always called Wini Steve’s aunt. When Sarah got sick just after Steve turned fourteen, she told him that he would be moving in with Wini once she passed.

After Sarah died, Steve would sit in the den with Wini and she’d tell him stories about his mother. Bucky was too young to join them, he didn’t understand death yet. So Wini would put Bucky to bed at night before sitting down with a fifteen year old Steve. 

Bucky’s old enough now to hear the stories, he has been for years of course. But he’s told Steve for just as long that it doesn’t feel right to intrude on their time together. 

The first time Bucky said it was when he was thirteen and Steve was twenty-three. Steve had looked at him with confusion. He asked if Bucky meant Steve’s time with Wini.

Shaking his head, Bucky had hesitated before saying, _“No, your time with Sarah.”_

That was the first moment Steve had seen Bucky for the truly amazing kid that he was going to grow into. In a purely innocent way, Steve had realized he absolutely adored this child that had accepted him into his family without malice or jealousy. 

Two years ago Steve told Wini they were dating and she asked him to leave the house.

As angry as Bucky was when Steve told him, they knew something like that was coming because, _”What do you expect her to think, Buck?”_

Now, visiting the Barnes’ house for Sunday dinner two years later, Wini watches Steve watch Bucky adjust his glove with a fond smile on her face. Steve can see her out of the corner of his eye and these days he only feels a little like he betrayed her trust. It’s a fairly regular occurrence; both the dinner and feelings of betrayal. 

“So, tell me how it happened.”

The question breaks the silence the two had established watching Bucky and Peggy play soccer in the yard. Steve meets Wini’s eyes, “That time of year already?”

“Sure is,” she says, smiling.

With a swallow Steve darts his eyes around the patio. Since he can't actually take her down with the rake and run, Steve resigns himself to the prospect of answering this question finally. 

Before Steve can come to a decision, his hesitation earns a laugh from Wini. “You've created quite the mystery around this whole situation, dear. I thought I might stand a chance after you two got together, but apparently not,” she says, arching an eyebrow.

With a groan, Steve drops his head back. “Jesus, I know. But every time you ask me I just don't know how to answer,” he says.

Wini’s eyebrow keeps it’s place, “I've been asking you for five years. I think you've had plenty of time to iron that out.” The lines are playful, but there’s a sternness to her voice Steve isn't used to hearing.

Steve can't help himself. “The first time you asked you were significantly scarier.”

Laughing, the sternness drains right out of Wini. “And you were a little shit. You ran away!”

The flush that takes over Steve’s face and neck is obvious. “Yeah, well, I felt like a terrible person,” he says, quieter. Shifting around in his seat, Steve doesn't give himself a chance to hesitate before he starts. “I think it really happened when he was 16, after the accident,” Steve says. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he shrugs, “I don’t know if you know this, but your son is amazing.” 

The statement is punctuated by the soccer ball Bucky and Peggy were kicking sailing in Wini and Steve’s direction. Steve snatches it out of the air as it reaches them and pitches it back.

“But what I told you still stands,” Steve says abruptly once Bucky and Peggy have resumed playing. “I never did anything. And I wouldn’t have. Bucky -”

Cutting him off with a chuckle, Wini waves her hand dismissively. “Oh, I know,” she says. Steve can feel intrigue boiling up in him. For all their storytime, Wini never told Steve how she found out about them. Angry as she was, when he finally told her she already knew. Before he can asked her to expand, Wini touches his forearm. “We trust you, Steve.” Surprise must show on Steve’s face. “Even George.”

Something drops in the pit of Steve stomach at those words. 

It must reflect on his face because Wini shakes her head suddenly. “Oh, don't think you’re getting out of it that easily.”

Even so, Steve let's out a relieved breath. He owes it to George to say it to his face. Not today, but soon. Thankfully he's out of town visiting his sister so Steve can be a coward for just a bit more.

Back at their apartment later that evening, Bucky fucks Steve in the shower. Ignoring all his whimpers and frustrated protests, Bucky opens him up slowly and carefully. Each movement of his fingers is torturous as he uses them to stretch Steve wide. Then he presses into him with the same care.

Steve doesn't think he’s ever come so hard in his life.

With his forehead resting between Steve’s shoulder blades Bucky breathes out, “You’re fucking perfect.”

A laugh rips it’s way from Steve’s throat, not weighted by the words so much as genuinely amused by the statement. “Pretty far from perfect, Buck.”

Still pressed to Steve’s skin Bucky shakes his head, seemingly relishing the feeling of softening inside of Steve considering he hasn’t pulled out yet. “No, you don’t get a say. You’re perfect, end of discussion,” Bucky says, tone firm.

Turning around, Bucky slipping out of Steve as he does, Steve presses Bucky against the opposite wall of the shower. Lightly running a finger up the length of Bucky’s left arm before leaning down to kiss the top of his shoulder, Steve’s lips brush Bucky’s skin as he speaks. “You’re perfect. End of discussion.”

Steve feels Bucky nod as he lets loose a chuckle, “Point taken.”


End file.
